Holidays Are The Hardest Times
by Daimeera
Summary: They were the unlikeliest of friends. Holiday oneshot.


A/N: This is a one-shot I whipped up in about twenty minutes for a contest. It's quick, not particularly well-done, and I should have been working on my NaNo instead (which can be found as friends only in my LJ - my name there is also Daimeera). Nevertheless, I decided to post it. Don't say I didn't warn you, though!

* * *

_They were the unlikeliest of friends._

It was another typical day at Degrassi, except that this day was the last one before classes broke for the holidays. Had it been but a year before that he had enjoyed this day, nay, looked forward to it? Had it been only two years since this day was pure bliss, when he snuggled with his honeybee and made plans for romantic days together? Had it been only years since he was filled with a childlike glee at the prospect of presents beneath the tree?

But now? Now he was a social pariah. He had committed the greatest of felonies, the deepest of treasons, and he was facing a life sentence. It didn't matter how many times he said he was sorry or how much guilt he harboured or how he prayed every night that it didn't happen, even if he didn't much believe in a higher being. He was stuck, and nothing and no one could change it.

He slumped down in a desk in the corner, trying to block out the sounds of laughter and joy as gifts were exchanged, and trying not to see the dark looks occasionally cast in his direction.

In typical clichéd fashion, the hands of the clock seemed not to be moving (of course, the clock was actually stopped, but Spinner being Spinner had decided it was his imagination, or at the very least, his anguish).

They'd attempted a typical school day, but that had lasted about five minutes before Ms. Hatzilakos decided that maybe for this one day of the year, it wouldn't be so bad to let the students roam at will. She didn't specifically say so, but she indicated to the teachers that there was no need to chase after wayward teenagers.

Nevertheless, Spinner stuck to his schedule, despite his general propensity toward the opposite. When the bell rang, he traipsed down the hall to Media Immersion, eyes trained on his feet as they shuffled along, seemingly of their own volition. The tips of his shoes were scuffed, he noticed, and there was a hole in the sole--no wonder his toes had been wet lately--but it didn't matter. He'd been doing everything he could to atone for his actions, and he welcomed the discomfort. It was the best he deserved.

He donated all his wages to bully-prevention causes, but even that didn't assuage his guilt. He was failing courses again, despite his best attempts not to, and images of guns and imagined scenes of violence haunted his dreams.

He sat down in front of one computer and began playing an idle game of Solitaire, paying no attention to his score or which cards went where. He was distracted by one figure across the room--namely, fellow student Jimmy Brooks.

He couldn't take it. Jimmy didn't need to say anything and he could already feel it hanging over him, more oppressive than ever. And he knew it was his own fault, but that didn't stop him from standing up and leaving the room. No one seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn't particularly care.

He headed to a deserted corner of the gym, trying to push away memories of Jimmy's basketball games and the day that he'd finally told him the truth. He collapsed down against the wall, tears in his eyes. The gym was dark, just the way he wanted it.

He didn't notice the small triangle of light as a door opened, broken by the shadow of a figure nearly as lost as himself. He hardly even noticed when the figure sat down beside him.

They sat in silence for a long time, neither acknowledging the other. Finally, Spinner gave in.

"Why are you here?" he asked bitterly.

"Probably the same reason you are. Holidays are the hardest times."

"Right, like you would know."

"I was his friend, Spinner. Everyone blames me almost as much as they blame you. The difference is, I didn't have any other friends to lose."

Spinner returned to his silent pondering, then began beating out a rhythm on his legs, slapping them harder than necessary. He missed drumming--his set lived at Craig's, which meant that he wouldn't be getting it back anytime soon.

"You could do worse, you know."

"What are you talking about?" Spinner asked.

"For a friend. You could do worse than me."

"Yeah, but we have nothing in common..."

"Don't we?"

Spinner stood up, then hesitated, and offered his hand. "Happy holidays," he said quietly. It hadn't been much, but that someone was willing to breach that wall meant the world to him. It meant that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to forgive himself, and that when he did, there would be someone there to rejoice along with him. It meant that when he went to bed that night, it would be with the knowledge that at least one person in the world didn't hate him.

"You too." Somehow, the prospect no longer seemed impossible.


End file.
